Mish and Moriarty
by GypsyQueenof221b
Summary: Moriarty kidnaps Hamish to get Sherlock back into playing his games. John and Sherlock in a panic listen to the mad mans demands to get there son back. JOHNLOCK but no smut I promise. It's my first fanfic so enjoy! XD
1. Chapter 1

John and Hamish lay lazily on the sofa, Sherlock had a case today and their normal nanny had called off. So Sherlock went to work alone.

"What do you want to do today 'Mish?" John asked his son.

Hamish Watson, with his lovely blue eyes stared over at his Dad and yawned.

"Ssssllllleeeeeeppppp." Hamish said dramatically sprawling out on the couch and flopping his arms onto his father's lap. His head dangling and eyes closed, a smirk teased the corner of his mouth. Hamish and John both looked more than tired; Sherlock had been up the past few nights working on a case. Violin screeches at 1 in the morning and gun shots into the wall at 4:30 am.

Their 9 year old son was the picture of exhaustion.

"Okay 'Mish go take a nap, I think I'll do the same." John smiled and realized that the boys breathing had drawn deep and steady. Smiling he carried the boy up the stairs and laid him onto the bed. Sneaking out he quietly shut the door and silently went down stairs. Since John and Sherlock now shared a room , Hamish had his own room upstairs.

John drug himself onto his bed and with a "thump" he tossed himself down. Breathing in the smell of the bed he shared with his husband. His eyes got heavier and heavier and eventually he began to snore.

Hours passed no interruptions, just silence and sleep. 5 o'clock rolled around and a text buzzed in John's pocket, scaring him awake as he flailed and fell off the bed.

Cursing under his breath he pulled his phone out to read a text from Sherlock.

_How are my favorite boys doing? –SH_

Feeling the anger lift, John smiled at his phone and began tapping the screen with his thumbs to respond.

_Napping, we fell asleep right after you left, I just now woke up. Think Mish is still asleep. – JW_

_Have I been keeping you two up? Why so tired? –SH_

_No it must have been another sociopath playing violin at 1 am this entire week. – JW_

_Be thankful, I was putting off testing the severed head in the microwave. Tested just now. –SH_

_No it must have been another sociopath playing violin at 1 am this entire week. – JW_

_Be thankful, I was putting off testing the severed head in the microwave. Tested just now. –SH_

_And ?-JW_

_They had to call the fire department-SH_

John giggled and thanked Sherlock for not doing that here. They said good bye and John walked up the stairs to check on Hamish. Opening the door he poked his head in to see the bed empty.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mish?" John called out. "Mish? Where'd you go?" He stepped in the empty room surveying it. Rumbled sheets and discarded books, clothes and toys scattered the floor. "Hamish Watson Holmes, answer me." John called out, his voice a little louder, a little sterner. Nothing. He felt a stab of panic in his chest as he searched the closet and under his bed.

The floor creaked as it always did when someone walked across it and something cold and hard pressed into the small of John's back. He froze. A raspy voice, growled at him.

"Do. Not. Move" The voice commanded.

John swallowed hard. What had this man done with Hamish? Who was it? What did they want? John found his voice slowly.

"Where is my son?"

"Turn around Doctor Watson"

Turning slowly he stared ahead to, nothing? What? Glancing down John saw Hamish laughing at him holding the thick end of a kitchen spoon out at him.

Letting his breathing return to normal John shouted at his son. "Hamish Watson Holmes! What do you think you are doing?!"

Still snickering Hamish spoke in his fake raspy voice, "It's an experiment!"

Glaring at Hamish he let a laugh escape and he let the anger pass. "Hamish it's not nice to scare me like that! What were you trying to prove?"

"Father said I couldn't scare you...I proved him wrong! He owes me ice cream!" he chirped in a singsong voice.

"Hamish that is not an experiment, that's a bet. I will give you Ice cream and take out for dinner tonight if you don't tell your father that you scared me."

Hamish thought it over and stuck his hand out, "Deal!" with that he launched himself into John's arms. Catching him and laughing they made their way to the living room to call for pizza.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock was working diligently away in the lab. His mind working in 221 different directions, add this chemical to this blood sample, beat this corpse with his riding crop 10 more times. So much work to do in so little time. When his phone blipped it made him jump off his chair. He was so deep in his mind he had forgotten he was suppose to come home for dinner with the boys. He assumed in was John scolding him for being late.

The message wasn't from John.

_Pizza and Ice Cream for dinner, highly unhealthy for a growing boy! Tsk Tsk Sherlock. –JM_

Sherlock's heart all but stopped. Jim Moriaty ….

His phone blipped again with a picture through the window showing John and Hamish sitting at the couch eating ice cream and waiting for the pizza to arrive.

_Don't do it, Jim. –SH_

_Or what love?-JM_

Sherlock was dialing John's number when the next text popped up.

_Come on Sherlock, play the game. Johnny boy and the Brat will pay big time if you don't.-JM_

He let out a shaky breath. Jim had never made a threat towards Hamish. For some dumb reason Sherlock had never connected Hamish to that part of his life. John yes. Hamish…no.

_Good boy-JM_

_What do you want?- SH_

_I'm bored….figure it out for yourself love. JM_


	4. Chapter 4

John heard the doorbell ring and he stood up grabbing his wallet, "Pizza's here!" he smiled at Hamish who was glued to the telly inhaling his Chocolate ice cream. Thumping down the stairs he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. Must be Sherlock apologizing for being late. He would answer when he paid for the pizza.

Opening the door a young man in a black hoodie held a pizza box in his hand.

"That was fast, thanks mate. How much do I owe you?"

The man made eye contact and smiled, John was confused.

"Sorry, something wrong?" John said

"You didn't notice me did you Johnny boy? I'm hurt!" The voice said going up and down in a singsong tune.

John stepped back, he felt like someone had punched him in the chest. Jim Moriarty was standing in his door way.

"Shit!" John screamed as he turned to run up the stairs. "Hamish!" He screamed racing step by step.

Some one full out tackled John, pushing his face into the stairs and bashing his head repeatedly, he felt his nose break and blood gush out. He screamed for Hamish and Mrs. Hudson. Only after he saw Moriarty pulling the empty syringe from his neck did he realize he wasn't really screaming his body felt weak and his vision was fading.

"Now, John you have about 60 seconds more of consciousness. Where is Hamish? Probably still stuffing his face with sweets and watching that damned television. You should raise him better, I'd be better at it."

John tried to sit up, to punch that shitty smirk off his perfectly deranged face. He tried with everything he had but he stayed firmly planted under the mad man. Through gritted teeth John swore at Moriarty.

"Don't touch my son! Don't you touch him! Please…"

"Shhhh, now Doctor Watson..It's time to sleep. Sherlock didn't want to play my game anymore..So little Hamish will just have to be my new playmate. Nighty NIGHT!" Jim said making the last word higher than the rest.

John's vision fizzled out and his head fell back, smacking on the stairs. Moriarty pulled his gun out and smacked the doctor on the chin with the butt of the gun. "No hard feelings John, I'm just sending a message."

He stood up and pulled off the black hoodie. Discarding it on the ground, he straightened up the suit he had been hiding under the casual clothes. Looking from the passed out Doctor slowly up the stairs to the open door, his eyes went cold. The blackness of his heart reflected in them as he ascended the stairs.


	5. Chapter 5

The characters on the telly had captured his mind; he seemed to be able to shut off his mind unlike his father. He was smart like Sherlock, but he also was like John. His mind could be simple and practical.

His stomach began to ache from all the ice cream and he sat it to the side. Blinking back to reality he realized his dad wasn't back yet. The door creaked open, and he turned smiling.

"Dad did you get the- who are you?" Hamish said as a man entered the flat, his eye brows were knit together madly. Hamish knew right away something was wrong.

"Dad!" Hamish called out. "Mrs. Hudson!" He screamed getting more frantic. He then remembered that Mrs. Hudson was visiting a friend on the other side of London. *gulp* Moriarty took a step more into the flat. Hamish stepped off his chair and backed up.

"Let's send a little message for Sherlock , how does that sound?" Moriarty smiled, pulling his phone out. He snapped a picture of Hamish, who had pushed himself against the wall. The 9 year old looked utterly terrified but with the determination of both his father's he glared at Moriarty.

"You never answered me.." Hamish said, "Who are you?"

"What? You didn't get your father's deductive powers?" He scoffed at the boy.

"I'm assuming you are a pain in both my parent's behinds because you're quickly becoming one in mine!" The boy snapped.

"Ohhh what fun we are going to have 'Mish, you're father refused to play my games…I guess you and I will just have to be playmates now."

" . ."

Moriarty stared at the boy, enjoying the rise he had gotten out of him.

"Jim Moriarty.. Hiiii."He said going up and octave.

"Mo-moriarty?!"

Hamish's knees became weak and he felt his pulse beat in his ears. He tried keeping a straight face , he wouldn't be afraid. But he was…


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock was pacing, glancing at his phone every 30 seconds. No, no, no! This was not allowed to happen. Moriarty wouldn't harm his son. He tried to swallow his anger. It spilled into the knuckles and his fist connected with the wall. The pain didn't register as he struck the same spot again and again, then hearing a loud _crack_ he winced and cradled his hand with the other.

His phone chose that moment to _ping_.

_Sherlock don't go breaking your body. That's my job. –JM_

Texting with one hand proved to be a challenge while the other was throbbing so much.

_Tell me what to do…You've won. I don't want to play games. Just leave my son and John alone.-SH_

Sherlock's phone buzzed in his hand. He answered

"Moriarty , please just listen to-"

"Daddy?" Hamish's terrified voice squeaked through the phone.

Sherlock emitted sounds that weren't human, as you could hear his heart break and it echoed in his voice.

"Hey 'Mish, (he swallowed the lump in his throat) Daddy is going to come and get you okay? Where are you? The flat? Where is Dad?" He controlled his voice well, not letting it crack this time.

"Yes, we are still at home…Dad Help!-" A muffled noise on the other end then Jim's high pitched voice spoke clear.

"Ready to play yet Sherlock? Hamish really is a lot of fun but not quite up to my standards yet. He doesn't know how to squirm right." Jim said.

"Jim…tell me what to do ...whatever you want I'll do it!"

"Come on home love. John needs your assistance!" his voice soared at the end and the line went dead.

The next few minutes where in slow motion. Sherlock tearing out of the lab, shoes hitting the ground his long coat fluttering behind him. He didn't even hail a cab! He just kept running. He was earning the odd looks of the people he passed by but he didn't care all he could think about was the man he loved and his child in the grasp of Moriarty.

He was turning onto his block ,his feet willing him to go faster .

Almost there… Sherlock could see the door. 5 steps…

4 steps…3…2…1…


	7. Chapter 7

John's head was clearing up, the pain throbbed all over his body, but mainly his face and head. What happened to him? He thought hard about why he could be laying on the stairs of 221b. Hamish….Pizza…Moriarty?...

MORIARTY!?

John jerked himself up and he turned onto all fours to crawl up the stairs, trying to ignore the intense pain that was throbbing though his head.

"Hamish!" He called out franticly. He stumbled into the living room and he started checking in closets and in all the rooms screaming for his son.

Sherlock threw open the door to see blood pooled on the stairs. "John!" he shouted and took off up the stairs. He crashed into the flat and let his eyes analyze the mess. Over turned ice cream bowl, the chairs were flipped, one oh Hamish's shoes was laying near the window. Sherlock sank to his knees sobbing.

"JOHN! HAMISH!" He sobbed into his hand, the one rather swollen and bruised.

"Sherlock!" John gasped and banged down the stairs. They stood a few feet apart shaking, looking lost.

"Sherlock? Where did he take 'Mish?"

"I-I don't kn-know. John, I'll find him. I'm going to bring him home."

They held onto each other for a moment, letting the sadness and fear subside enough to begin working on the game Moriarty had set them up for. They would find their son, they would bring him home safe, and…they would put a bullet in Moriarty's brain for touching their son.


	8. Chapter 8

_Damn this kid! Isn't he only like five? He shouldn't even be able to walk yet right?_ Jim thought to himself.

Moriarty had little to no experience with children, other than holding them hostage of course. Normally he didn't like to do the dirty work himself. He sent some giant muscle man to do it. Less mess for him that way, but not when it came to Sherlock. No when Sherlock was involved he was all in. He just wished he wasn't dealing with the brat prince spawn of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson! This kid had managed to kick him in the nose, making it bleed all over his new suit…

An eye for an eye…

He _had _broken John's nose on the stairs he thought, that's rather ironic. The black eye Hamish now sported was his own damn fault. To keep another outburst from happening he drugged the kid. That was about 3 hours ago. Oh how Sherlock and John must be fretting.

" Let me out!" he heard Hamish scream.

_Oh great. _

The brat was awake now, might as well get the fun started!

He started walking down the hall towards the room he was keeping the kid in.

"Hamish. Watson. Holmes! How nice of you to make your consciousness vocal!"

"Take me home!"

"Now Hamish, It's not polite to shout." He sang in a childish tone.

"TAKE ME HOME!"

"SHUT UP!" Moriarty snapped. He walked towards Hamish with his arms out and hands ready to thrash the boy.

Hamish ducked under his arms right when Moriarty swung his hands together. He skidded on the floor making for the hopefully unlocked door, his fingers locked around the handle….


	9. Chapter 9

Greg Lestrade was standing at the entrance of Baker Street ordering his men around as a sleek black car pulled up. Out stepped the one and only Mycroft Holmes. He look rather composed for someone whose nephew had just been abducted by what was most likely the most dangerous man in London...probably the world. He strolled casually from the street to the Detective Inspector, "Lestrade." He said without making eye contact.

"Mycroft." The inspector greeted and lifted the police tape for the man and they began heading up the steps.

"How is my baby brother and his other half…handling the situation?", Mycroft asking with about as much concern as he could muster.

"How do you bloody well think? Their son has been kidnapped! They're going out of their minds and the kidnapper hasn't made any contact for 3 ½ hours!"

"Understandable…"

They came to the door at the top of the steps and entered.

Sherlock was perched on the back of his chair with his feet on the seat of it. His phone lay between his feet on the chair. His slender fingers were knotted in his curly black hair. He sat motionless and silent , just staring at the black screen.

John was the opposite. He was pacing and muttering curse words to himself, at random he would scream and kick the wall. Then he would go back to his pacing and muttering.

Neither of the two seemed to notice the Inspector or Mycroft enter the room, Mycroft cleared his throat. John looked up at them, his face was badly bruised and he had a bandage over the bridge of his nose. Deep bruises had settled under his eyes.

"Hello Mycroft" he then nodded at Lestrade, "Greg" and he went back to his pacing. He couldn't breathe… his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

Damn it all to hell, where was his boy. _Their_ son! The silence was starting to drive him insane! There was no Hamish playing games or running around and laughing, playing his make believe stories.

John's eyes came to rest on Hamish's teddy bear discarded on the ground…it was his favorite. It was bed time soon and even still being 9 he needed his bear, he needed it whenever he was upset or scared. He didn't have his teddy now though, and he was sure that Hamish was terrified.

John's knees buckled and he sank to the floor sobbing and pulling the child's toy to his chest.

Greg came to his side to comfort him and helped him into his chair. Sherlock was away in his head. He hadn't moved for an hour or so. The silence rang in his ear even though people were talking and crying, but it was all meaningless. None of the tears or comfort would bring his son back to him, only he could do that.

*_PIIIIING!*_

_I apologize for the wait, but Hamish proves to be hard to hold onto!- JM_

Sherlock all but leaped on his phone and he began typing aggressively. John rushed to his side to read the text over his shoulder.

_Tell me what you want! –SH_

_Are you going to play my games again? Or will Hamish have to stand in for you?-SH_

_Yes! I'll play the damned game! Give me Hamish and game on!- SH_

The phone began ringing and he answered in half a second. Hamish spoke slowly over the line.

"Daddy?"

Sherlock put it on speaker and motioned for all others in the room to be silent. He and John spoke at the same time.

"Hamish! Are you okay?"

"He says to come and get me at the pool…he said you'll know which one he means…No cops…Just you, him, me and Dad…2 hours…" the line went dead again and Sherlock threw him phone into the ground watching the screen shatter. He sank into the chair and covered his eyes with one hand and reached the other one out for John.

"Two hours…" John said quietly. "The pool ? Oh….that pool." He said remembering very well which pool he meant. Where they had first met Jim Moriarty, well I guess the second if you counted the one time at the lab in the hospital. Where he was strapped to a bomb and had snipers aim at him. A place he never wished to go again, but he would go, he would go to hell and back for their son. It seemed that is exactly what he would do too.


	10. Chapter 10

Two hours later Sherlock and John entered the pool. They stood at edge looking into the clear water that smelled to strong of chlorine and chemicals. John thought to himself how they had never taken Hamish swimming; Hamish didn't even know how to swim. When this was all over they would all take a vacation and go swimming. He promised himself that.

The door across the pool swung open and Jim Moriarty entered in that same suit, looking so impeccable and wearing that damned smirk! Sherlock wondered if he would stay smiling when he put a bullet in his brain. He wouldn't doubt it.

"Hello boys!" Jim sang "Doesn't this bring back such good memories!?"

Sherlock and John standing side by side stayed silent and still.

"Oh I'm feeling all nostalgic, thinking we met here how many years ago?"

"13 years, 248 days, 9 hours and 32 seconds." Sherlock rattled off with amazing speed.

"Oh Sherlock lighten up!" Jim sang again.

John spoke up, "Where is Hamish?"

"Oh! Yes! How could I forget?!" he said "Hamish! Be a dear and come on out for Uncle Jim!"

The door Moriarty had come out of opened again and Hamish stepped out.

Sherlock and John both let out a breath seeing their child alive, was more that they could ask but then it all was taken back. Looking away from his face he wore a bomb strapped to his chest. Horror was obvious on John's face. He stepped forward but Sherlock grabbed his hand pulling him back.

"Daddy?" he said addressing them both. He began to run for them but Jim, shouted.

"Stay still!" and Hamish froze.

"My god! Your child needs educated boys! Running with a live bomb strapped to his chest, tsk tsk!" Jim said.

Jim motioned for Hamish to walk to him, and slowly he did.

Sherlock looked at his son, his eyes wide with fear and anger. He wanted to pick up his son and shoot Moriarty in the heart. He couldn't decide which he wanted to do more. John held back his emotions , years in the military had helped but… the sight of his son more helpless than ever shot through him. Both holding back tears ,Sherlock spoke.

"What now? What do you want me to do?"

Ignoring Sherlock ,Moriarty addressed John. "John? Would you be a good pet and come here?"

John froze, looking confused. "What do you think the chances of that are?" He said sarcastically. Maybe not the best time for sarcasm but it kept things about 1% less tense.

Jim swiftly pulled a gun and put it to the side of Hamish's head. "Oh I'd say about the same chance your son would have of dying if I pulled the trigger right now." He said laughing.

John and Sherlock both pulled guns out and aimed them at the mad man. Sherlock and John shared a look and John put his gun away.

Hamish looked at them, his big blue eyes wide with fear, tears pricking the corner of his eyes as Moriarty yanked his head back, fingers entwined tightly in his hair.

"No! Wait! Fine, fine yes, I'm coming over, look! Just put the gun down." John said taking slow steps to towards the two.

Jim pulled the gun from Hamish's head and pointed it at John and held it on him until he was standing by his side, then put it away.

Moriarty kept himself between the boy and John, he laughed out loudly. His plan was working out exactly as he had wanted it too!

"Now! Sherlock, be a dear and put the gun away. Be a good sport."

"Take the bomb off of my son."

"Hmmm no., that's not how this game works, You see, you listen to me and _every _rule I give you and you get your son back, if you don't then well." He started snickering madly, "Hamish Watson Holmes becomes a fire work!"

Hamish whimpered and looked up at John and then to Sherlock , his heart was beating rapidly in his chest.

"Daddy, I want to go home…" Hamish whimpered.

"Oh Hamish, I thought we said no more whining! That's what earned you the black eye." Moriarty sung.

Sherlock and John glanced at their son and noticed he was sporting a nice dark black bruise. John was shaking he was so mad and Sherlock had a terrifying glare on his face, all this anger pointed at the Irish madman.

"HOPE! You don't mind my disciplinary views boys but little Hamish knows how to set me off!"

Sherlock had his finger on the trigger and wanted to shoot him, to make him bleed, to mimic every mark that he had put on Hamish. When he took another moment to look over Hamish, he saw all the deep bruises. He saw the finger marks on his neck and wrists. A gash that would need stitches was on his leg. What had he done to him? He kept the sadness from over taking him and replaced it with rage and he directed it all at Jim.

John's fists were shaking, his face was red, and his breathing was fast. He was holding himself back from tackling Moriarty and beating the accent out of him.

That fuse inside him snapped and before Sherlock could stop him, John grabbed the man by the neck and threw him on the ground and started punching. It felt good to have the bones in his hand connect with the bones in Moriarty's face. He beat until Moriarty's knee came up between his leg and he tossed him off. Moriarty kicked John in the chest and face , he threw his arms up and shouted, "Enough!"

Familiar red dots appeared on Sherlock, John and Hamish's chests and heads. At least five dots on each of them buzzed around them like bugs. John slowly stood up seeing the dots on his son and husband. "Damn" What had he just done. Moriarty's normally cool and calm (mad as hell) look had cracked. His left eye twitched and he had his head cocked to the side. He looked like a predator ready to pounce on the weak prey. His nose was bleeding. _Again. _His mouth had filled with blood and his cheeks were bruising. Blood had dropped onto his suit jacket and that is what had pushed him over the edge.

"Damn you John Watson! Hamish is most defiantly half yours! This is the second time today one of the Watson boys put blood on my suit jacket and made my nose bleed!"

The air in the room cooled.

Sherlock had held the gun on Moriarty, knowing the snipers were there and had he moved they all would've been shot, so he just held still. Moriarty was beginning to lose interest.

Moriarty gripped John's collar and grabbed Hamish by the hair and held them in front of him.

Jim's hair was out of place, blood on his jacket and he was disheveled. No doubt he had enjoyed the pain but now, he was done with this game.

"Alright! Sherlock, here it is, a choice. A choice that only a brilliant mind like yours can make! Or so I thought! You've become so domestic! You let your emotions take hold and that mind is suffering! Time to harder that heart back up!"

Pulling a small black remote from his pocket his held it to his side and took a step back , no doubt the remote to Hamish's bomb.

He took another step back and he shouted.

"Your choice Sherlock, Hamish or John! Have me put a bullet in John's brain or turn Hamish into ash! All up to you Sherlock !"

A red dot floated in the middle of John's forehead. His heart was beating in his ears, a loud ringing was surging through him. So it was him or their son…obviously Sherlock would choose Hamish, that's what John wanted. His son was way more important that himself.

Sherlock's mind stopped working, had he really just said, John? Or Hamish?

What? No, this just wasn't okay; nothing like this was allowed to happen. His heart beating became the only thing he was aware of. It all was slow motion. He glanced from John, _his _John. That lovely sandy hair, his eyes…What if this was the last time he saw that face, those eyes boring into his, wait John was looking at him, talking to him.

"Sherlock, it's fine! Just-Just take care of Hamish!" John said, Sherlock was focusing again, he could hear Hamish crying and Moriarty was thinking so loud.

His eyes drifted to Hamish. So small and so young! Hamish was a part of him; he was everything good that Sherlock wasn't. He was part of John and part of himself but yet he was 100% his own person! He had Sherlock's black hair but it was straight like John's. Hamish's eyes were bright blue like his. His nose and smile all John.

His face was wet, why was it wet? Oh…Sherlock was crying.

"Come on now Sherlock no waterworks! You've become so boring! So…normal, you're no fun anymore! Maybe I'll just kill you two and take Hamish!"

"NO!" Sherlock and John shouted together .

"Why not? I'm suuuure Hamish would be an excellent new addition to the crime network!"

Sherlock's mind was racing, John was shaking and Hamish was so terrified he was pale and sick to his stomach.

Suddenly Moriarty shouted, "CHOOSE! Or I will choose for you!" He held the gun to John's head (sniper still on him) and held the remote out towards Hamish.

"Hamish, close your eyes and cover your ears." John said, he did a good job of hiding the fear in his voice, for the 9 year old.

Hamish hesitated, "'Mish, it'll be alright, just listen okay? Hey…I love you alright? Father and I love you. It'll be alright."

Hamish just looked at John sadly and covered his ears sobbing, he still looked at John.

"Daddy?" He sobbed.

John motioned for him the close his eyes and slowly he did.


	11. Chapter 11

"Oh so heartwarming, John, maybe you're better at this than I thought!" Moriarty sang loudly.

"Moriarty," John spoke, "Leave my son and Sherlock alone and just shoot me."

"John!-" Sherlock screamed

"Shut up Sherlock. This is my game too. My son, my spouse, my choice."

Moriarty cocked his head to the side and put the gun in the center of John's forehead. John bit his lip and closed his eyes.

"Sherlock," He said, his strong voice faltering every so little,

"John, please don't…" Sherlock said stepping forward.

"Sherlock , just, for the love of god, take care of him."

"I can't-"

"You'll have to now!"

"Are we about done with this little domestic squabble!?"Moriarty snapped, "It's ever so heartwarming but, I'm BORED! You lot have become so boring! All the sentiment has ruined you! I hope this hardens that soul of yours back up Sherlock."

John opened his eyes and glared at the man holding a gun to his head.

He had no clue.


	12. Chapter 12

Moriarty cocked the gun.

"Say good-bye Sherlock."

"John, remember what I said at Baker Street?"

"Yes"

"What was it again?"

"Lazarus is a go."

Moriarty stood confused for a moment, and then a shot echoed through the pool.

John fell backwards.

Sherlock ran to Hamish and started ripping the bomb off and in a moment discarded it in the pool.

Hamish clung to his father sobbing and his small hands gripping his jacket, face buried in his shirt.

Sherlock swallowed and tried to take in the situation.

He turned his head.

John lay on the ground and so did Moriarty.

Moriarty was cursing under his breath, His knee had be probably shot off. He couldn't run for sure but he still had a gun. Sherlock had a hunch he wasn't thinking about the gun.

Picking up Hamish he ran to John.

John ,eyes closed and head bleeding, was not dead.

Very much alive!

Moriarty had shot him, mind you but Sherlock calculated that when _his_ snipers shot Jim, he would jerk up, and the bullet would just graze John. He was right of course but it would still hurt like hell. Sherlock leaned down and kissed his partners forehead and John opened his eyes. His pupils were giant, he probably had a concussion from falling straight back to the concrete floor.

"John?"

"hmmmm?" He groaned trying to sit up, he wanted to see Sherlock, he wanted to see Hamish, he wanted to hug and hold them both.

Police began to filter in, they had been surrounding the building the whole time. The police had over powered Moriarty's men before the mad man had even arrived. They had been the snipers all along. Sherlock and John hadn't known that part, they just hoped it was them. Otherwise the whole _Lazarus _thing would've been really embarrassing last words.

Lestrade hurried to them and dropped to his knees by John. "We got him , thanks to you too. How's Hamish?" they all looked at the child. He was shaking against Sherlock but he was safe.

They all smiled.


	13. Chapter 13

Later that night at the hospital, John was all bandaged up. He had to stay in the hospital for a day or so but not too bad considering he had been shot in the head, he mainly needed stitches, it wasn't too serious. He had a bad concussion and they mainly wanted to keep an eye on him.

In the hospital bed next to John, was Hamish. He had a few places that needed stitches but other than that he was dehydrated. He would be aloud out the same day as John. They wanted to watch them both for any signs of shock. Hamish was fast asleep and had his teddy bear tucked under his arm, things turned out better than Sherlock had hoped.

Sherlock Holmes sat still as a statue in the chair between the two beds. His boys were safe. Moriarty was in jail …for now at least. He banished Jim from his mind at the moment; he glanced from left to right at the two sleeping men.

He smiled and laid his head back and fell asleep.

A few hours later Sherlock woke up, his neck and back were stiff from sleeping in a chair, made from what he guessed was rock.

He stood up and stretched his lanky body. Both John and Hamish were asleep still; he smiled and decided to go stretch his legs. He stepped out of the hospital room and nodded to the two cops guarding the door.

Sherlock pulled out his phone and dialed his brother. He answered on the first ring.

"Hello, brother." Mycroft answered

"Are you planning on visiting your nephew this century? I thought you would at least call."

"Sherlock, turn around would you?"

Sherlock turned to see Mycroft leaning casually leaning on his umbrella. He held a gift bag in the other hand.

"Did you think I was that cold?" he smirked and even Sherlock had to smile.

"Thank you." Sherlock said, he furrowed his brow, hearing those odd, rare words escape his mouth. (especially when directed at his older brother.)

"How are they?"

"They are wonderful….they are both fine. They will be out in a tomorrow hopefully but for being beaten by a criminal and shot in the head…they are alive and safe." The Holmes brothers smiled at each other.

"SHERLOCK!" A frantic woman's voice screamed through the hospital hall. Mycroft and Sherlock turned to see a very frantic Mrs. Hudson running towards them.

"How are they? Where is Hamish? Where is John? How bad is it? Is that son of a _bitch_ dead?"

"Mrs. Hudson! Calm down! Where have you been?

"I told you at breakfast when I brought you tea I was going to a friends for the week. Molly called me! Molly Hooper! Not your brother and not you thought to alert me that Hamish had been kidnapped! Or that John had been shot!"

Mrs. Hudson started smacking Sherlock with her hand bag, and shouting at him.

Mycroft just stood back and fought to keep a smile off his face.

Managing to confiscate the hand bag from the old lady he held it to his side.

"Mrs. Hudson please!" he laughed, "I apologize! But I was a little busy earlier! They are both safe and doing just fine."

Sherlock pulled the woman to him and crushed her in a hug. Sherlock and Mycroft's parents would be down in two days to visit them but at the moment, as much as Sherlock hated to admit it, he needed someone motherly to tell him that it was okay now. Mrs. Hudson did just that.

Even though Sherlock would never admit it, Mrs. Hudson kept Sherlock in line and acted as a mother. Which meant, right now, she knew exactly what Sherlock needed to hear.

"You saved your boys; they are safe and sound now." She patted his back, "good job, Sherlock Holmes."

He smiled and pulled back. "Want to go see the patients, then?"

Sherlock lead them into the room and they quietly walked in. Sherlock offered Mrs. Hudson the chair between the beds and she sat quietly and looked at John. Mother to this poor boy too, she smoothed his hair and patted his hand. Turning to Hamish she held back a sob seeing the bruises. She held the sleeping boys hand and smiled and began to hum a lullaby quietly so that only she could hear it, mainly to calm herself.

Mycroft stood like a statue, looking at his nephew. The feelings that had been whirling in his chest didn't make sense to him. He knew he loved the child, of course he did! Would he ever show it? Most certainly not! But right now, in this room, with no camera and no outsiders, Mycroft let the emotions show. He swallowed a lump and looked at his baby brother.

"You understand I do care right?"

"Y-yes." Sherlock said uncomfortably.

"I just can't show it…for the very reason we are in this hospital, because people use the people we love against us."

Sherlock just nodded.

"I love Hamish more than I know how to show, I tell you this now so you may tell him, but I will not be a reason this boy ever gets hurt. I hope he doesn't think I hate him. I am distant because I care."

Sherlock actually smiled which slightly annoyed Mycroft.  
"And you're smiling because?"

"Is that why you kept me locked out…"

Mycroft BLUSHED!

"Right well I must be off! Give these to Hamish and John would you?", Mycroft practically shoved the gift bag into Sherlock and turned to leave fast. Before leaving he nodded to Mrs. Hudson and at his brother and then hurriedly walked away.

Smiling to himself he opened the bag to set the gifts on each of their tables amongst the multitude of flowers and cards the police officers had dropped off.

Sherlock set a box of candy on John's table and a toy car on Hamish's. Not exactly personal but, I guess it was the thought that counts.

**Alright guys I'm updating this chapter because I am leaving for the weekend so you get two chapters today! And I am sad to say after this, only two more chapters of Mish and Moriarty . ;( I know I am heartbroken also! SO review and tell me if you enjoyed! The story will conclude Monday. Ugh I hate Mondays . I don't want to say goodbye! In the words of the 10th Doctor. "I don't want to go."**


	14. Chapter 14

"Sherlock?" John said, finally waking up.

Sherlock who had been sprawled on the floor next to John's bed, popped up right next to John, slightly terrifying him.

"Sherlock, what in the bloody hell? Why were you on the floor?"

"I was thinking and the chair is occupied."

Glancing behind him Lestrade was asleep in the chair. Mrs. Hudson said she would go home and tidy the flat a little so it would be nice when they went home the next day.

John's eyes flitted to Hamish.

"How is he?" He asked

"He is just" Sherlock let out a nice airy sigh, "marvelous, recovering great, only a few stitches and a couple of scrapes and bruises."

"Moriarty?" John asked looking back into Sherlock's eyes.

"Jail…" He didn't want to talk about that.

So, knowing exactly how to shut John up, he planted a loving kiss directly on his lips, after a few moments, they heard Lestrade awake. They broke apart and smiled at each other. Lestrade blinked and then stood up, he had completely missed the kiss and they laughed, cherishing the moment.

"How are you feeling, Watson?" Lestrade asked the patient.

"Better that I probably should! Wait how _am _I?" He looked at Sherlock . "What did the Doctor say about me?"

Sherlock laughed, "Doctor John Watson! For being shot in the head, you are doing bloody fantastic! You and Hamish are both coming home tomorrow with me, and I am not letting you out of my site!"

The three men laughed, and the laughter woke up Hamish.

"Mmmmm…Dad?" Hamish said blinking his eyes and focusing on them.

Sherlock literally jumped over John's bed and landed next to Hamish, Lestrade thinking quick, moved the chair and pushed John's bed closer Hamish's.

John held Hamish's hand, still too sore to sit up and pull his son to him as he really wanted to.

Sherlock pulled Hamish into his chest and hugged him tight, and John squeezed his hand. They were really safe.

Lestrade slowly left the room to let the family have their moment.

"MMMMMM! Dad! You're squishing me!" Hamish said trying to move his body so he could get air. Sherlock released him enough to allow his son to get oxygen.

"Where did Moriarty go?" Mish whispered into his father's shoulder. John and Sherlock exchanged a look and then Sherlock began explaining. Hamish deserved to know the truth.

"He is in jail Hamish, you're safe now. I promise that." John said, giving Hamish's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Uncle Mycroft will make sure he doesn't get out anytime soon." Sherlock added.

"Good." Hamish laughed and nuzzled close to Sherlock, and knowing he was safe, he feel back to sleep.

Sherlock lay back on the bed holding Hamish, and Hamish holding John's hand, the three fell asleep.


	15. Chapter 15- The Final Chapter

The next day the boys were back to Baker Street. Home safe and sound, Mrs. Hudson was running back and forth bringing them food and anything else they needed. Though John had told her they were fine she insisted on every 15 minutes or so, to bring them tea or biscuits.

Hamish was asleep up in his room; Sherlock climbed the stairs twice every hour to check on him. John was sprawled out on the couch, he laid his head back and closed his eyes fighting off the massive migraine he had coming on. Apparently being shot in the head left you sore for awhile, John didn't mind though. Hamish was safe.

Sherlock was running around the apartment putting stuff back in there "proper" places. Mrs. Hudson had cleaned the flat perfectly. Or so John thought but Sherlock was in hell. He had no clue where anything was but he had forced thanks to the land lady for her work. He had yet to locate his skull but other than that things were starting to fall back into place.

Sherlock's phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling it out he read the message on the screen.

_Hush Little Hamish don't you cry, Daddy John will always save your life,_

_Quiet little Hamish just stay here, Daddy Sherlock will calm your fears,_

_Shush little Hamish just hold still, your Daddies will love you and always will –JM_

Sherlock's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed and rage filled him. As soon as he read the text a call from Mycroft rand through, he answered.

"Moriarty has escaped, Sherlock."

"I know he texted me."

Sherlock hung up on his brother and looked at John. He was staring at Sherlock, he noticed the tone of annoyance that he used to try and cover fear.

Another text, _Ping!_

_Hush little Hamish ,don't make a sound, Uncle Moriarty's got you now. -JM_

The silence broke when Hamish screamed. Sherlock and John bolted up the stairs.

**The End…for now**

**Maybe I'll write more but make everyone wait two years and be evil like Moffat? Nah. Review you guys! Tell me if you would like more of this story. Honestly though I think it was a great adventure and I had a beautiful time writing it. I hope you all enjoyed it! I'm sad to say goodbye to this story and plan to spend the day in mourning for my fanfic. I love all you guys! :) **


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